Picture of large Renoit poster, taken from third floor exhibition platform
After, embarassingly, sleeping through a farewell party on Friday night, I woke up early on Saturday feeling rested and ready for a big day. I talked to my mom for two hours, which was really nice. I find it so easy to talk to my parents from far away: we are so used to talking on the phone anyway, Skype is almost an improvement in our communication. My mom's educated advice is always intelligent, studied, and helpful. Though I ask her about differences in culture and how she thinks I should handle situations, she knows the human psyche, the human condition. I guess it transcends all racial lines. I went to the gym and came back home to get ready for a day at the museum. At long last I was headed to the Seoul Museum of Art, near City Hall Station on the number one (dark blue) subway line.
The subway was packed the whole way: was every single Korean visiting Seoul today? Jeesh. I read, obviously, so I was entertained. When I arrived, I was astonished at just how many people were there. Museums at home get busy, sure, but not like this. There were line ups for each painting! It was just silly. Oh, Renoir was at the SeMA: hence my excitement to go. I had never seen Renoir. Mom told me she saw Renoir in Paris at the Louvre when she was there. How romantic: I was seeing the same paintings my mother saw some thirty years earlier. It's amazing how intricately connected we all are, isn't it? I digress. The exhibit was amazing. Of course you can't take photographs of the artwork, but I spent about three hours perusing them, so I'm pretty certain they are stuck in my head, at least for a little while. This is the outside of the museum, just as dusk was falling. Even the building was artful: this tree was shadowed on the wall purposefully: they called it the wall of light...images changed every few minutes by lighting up a different natural element of the property. So cool.
I had visited the museum on my own on purpose: I wanted to see the place by myself without the pressure of moving on or staying put. Art is very personal to me. So when all the art in the place was seen, including the two other local exhibits and both gift shoppes, I wandered around the neighbourhood, drinking in the sights. They were having a free outdoor concert on the lawn in front of City Hall. It was called Seoul Open Night and though the first bit of music they played was not my style, they totally shocked and awed me later. On stage were men playing all sorts of instruments, beautifully dressed, and singing their hearts out. It was really nice. On the lawn, families gathered on blankets under the bright night sky. I was told later that the reason there were a multitude of police officers, complete with riot shields and helmets, was because this is a common ground for protests. There were hoards of them: on every corner, strategically staggered across the walkways, and along every road that surrounded the island upon which City Hall sits. They were a little intimidating as a mass, but up close, it was apparent that they were no older than boys and the possibility of them inflicting any injury to me was non-existent.
Looking directly in the opposite direction, I snapped my first shot of the Seoul Grand Tower. It reminded me so much of the CN Tower, but I didn't feel homesick at all this night. It was all too beautiful. The night was cool for the first time since I've been here, and it was so easy to walk, take pictures, drink in the sights. It felt very human there: not Korean or Canadian, just human.
To the right of the Tower, the Seoul Plaza Hotel overlooked City Hall Island. It was massive, impressive. I had to go inside. After all, you must surround yourself with luxury in order to know what luxurious things you want in life. The Italian restaurant, Tuscany, had this spectacular menu. It was 85,000 won for a five course meal: zuppa or salata, antipasto, pasta or risotto, carne or pesche (yeah so what, I'm trying my hand at Italian now...it means 'meat or fish'), and dessert. Oh my god, it looked so good I almost threw my budget out the window and dove in. But I think it would be a better meal if it were shared, so I just drooled over the menu for a few minutes. Perhaps I'll return to splurge. They all spoke such beautiful English too at the Plaza. Oh, Canadian customer service, where have you gone?
I looked around..."I live here", I said to myself. "I actually live here. It's amazing. People are milling about, enjoying the night just like I am: they are tourists in their own city. They are me, taking pictures of the CN Tower after seeing it a hundred times or more." The night was cool for summer, fall was in the air. How many nights, I wondered, did I spend like this in Toronto? A few. Alone? Never. What a liberation that I was there then, alone, drinking it all in.
So I'll splurge here instead: if the Phantom is in English, I'll buy a ticket.
So if you can fully grasp the emotion of the night, my writing has done the memory justice. I feel like I'm starting to get my bearings, feel a littl more at home, and can stretch out my legs and get comfortable. I'm embracing all that the city has to offer, trying to drink in as much culture as I can. I didn't want to come home to Hamilton last night. Didn't want to drink a glass of wine in Alicia's kitchen and talk about the same old stuff. I wanted to go for dinner, by myself, to a Vietnamese restaurant. I wanted to smell and taste and see where I was and imagine where I was going. It all felt very, very good.
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